


Sparks Ignite

by BeepGrandCherokeeper



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Birthday, Fade to Black, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Picnics, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 19:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeepGrandCherokeeper/pseuds/BeepGrandCherokeeper
Summary: “It’s a nice park,” Connor said, dismissing the meteorological report that helpfully presented itself in his HUD. He knew it was fifty-one degrees, mostly cloudy but little chance of rain, with occasional gusts of wind up to eight miles per hour. That was why he’d chosen today to go out. “Much larger than Sumo’s favorite.”“Quieter, too. Feels like nobody’s here. Too late for joggers, too early for kids, I guess.”Yes, Connor thought. That also had been on purpose.





	Sparks Ignite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plutoandpersephone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutoandpersephone/gifts).

> For Pluto @andpersephone on twitter!

“Connor,” Hank sighed, sounding a bit too put-upon to truly be good natured. “Why did you bring us here?”

Connor disconnected from the GPS system in Hank’s mounted tablet and tucked his hands under his thighs, mostly to keep himself from bodily pushing Hank out the driver’s side door. “The surprise,” he said, for what he calculated was the eleventh time. “We have a bit of a walk before we’ll reach it. Approximately .43 miles’ worth.”

Hank pulled the keys out of the ignition and sagged back into his seat with a groan. Then he pushed the door open with his foot.

“Listen,” he said, even as he heaved himself out of the car, “I love spending time with you, Con. I like your surprises, even though the last one nearly landed me in the hospital.”

Connor left his seat a bit more gracefully, taking his time. “I already hear the ‘but’ coming, Lieutenant. You don’t need to work your way up to it. And,” he added, “you were not hurt physically or mentally by your surprise party.”

Hank bumped his door shut and locked the car manually, with a key, like he never quite left the world from four decades ago. “Maybe not,” he said, shoving his keys deep into a jacket pocket. “But I’m getting older, Con, and the older you get, the less likely your chance of surviving a bunch of people jumping out at you in the dark.”

Connor waited for Hank to join him before he held out his hand, wiggling his fingers.

“You are fifty-five years, six days, six hours, and twenty-four minutes old,” he said, opting to leave out the seconds both because Hank would tease him and because birth records were never quite that precise. “You’re still young.”

Hank ignored Connor’s hand and wrapped an arm around his waist instead, tugging him in for a quick kiss on the forehead. Mollified, Connor decided to stick his hand in Hank’s back pocket.

“I don’t mean to be a dick,” Hank said as they started walking. “It’s just been a long week, and it’s not exactly the best weather for a constitutional.”

“It’s a nice park,” Connor said, dismissing the meteorological report that helpfully presented itself in his HUD. He knew it was fifty-one degrees, mostly cloudy but little chance of rain, with occasional gusts of wind up to eight miles per hour. That was why he’d chosen today to go out. “Much larger than Sumo’s favorite.”

“Quieter, too. Feels like nobody’s here. Too late for joggers, too early for kids, I guess.”

Yes, Connor thought. That also had been on purpose.

They talked intermittently as they trekked through the park, avoiding copses of trees whose leaves were already starting to change color a week before fall officially began. In the distance, an artificial lake stirred with the breeze and churned with the paddling of webbed feet. Duck calls followed them up a hill and faded only as they made their way back down and into a sort of valley, surrounded on all sides by gently sloping knolls and spotty collections of wildflowers. At the bottom, carefully placed in the exact epicenter of the hollow, sat a picnic basket.

“Oh,” Hank said. He took Connor’s hand this time, frowning down at the basket. “Is this the surprise?”

“Yes. I took a taxi here while you were at the store this morning.”

“And you set it up? With, like… food?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hank, with food. You seemed unhappy with all the attention at the party, so I thought I’d make it up to you with something more private. I liked the idea of a picnic.”

Hank winced, squeezing Connor’s fingers. “Baby, I didn’t hate the attention. I just haven’t been— You know nobody’s thrown me a party in years, I didn’t have much time to adjust. It was fun.”

“I know,” Connor said, doing his best to sound soothing. He lifted their joined hands and pressed Hank’s knuckles to his mouth, kissing under the gold band. It was warm against his lip. “This will be fun, too. Come on, let me show you what I packed.”

As Connor removed the thin blanket he’d folded on top of the food and spread it out in the grass, Hank held the basket. He peeked inside, lifting the lid, but a quick redirection to help make the corners even took his attention away. Connor allowed himself a quick burst of self-satisfaction when Hank set the basket down, grumbling about Connor’s perfectionist streak. He would find out about the rest of it later, at Connor’s pace.

The sandwiches he’d made that morning were chilled, slightly, from the basket’s cold-insulated sides. Hank bit into them with more gusto than Connor expected. Apparently, vegetables were acceptable fare if they came in the form of a BLT. He appreciated the chips, too, with no complaints that they weren’t the usual deep fried potato variety. Maybe he still felt badly about complaining the way he had. Or, Connor thought, trying not to watch Hank eat so intensely that he felt uncomfortable, maybe Hank was just happy here. He knew Hank appreciated his company — a somewhat reductive way to think of it, since they had been married less than a year — it was hardly strange to think he could bring Hank comfort. Give him a bit of peace.

“Is it all right?” Connor asked, before Hank had finished chewing his sandwich.

Hank swallowed. He looked at Connor for a long moment, piercing him straight through with his eyes like he meant to dissect him. It made Connor shiver. Even after nearly two years, being known by someone inside and out was a little terrifyingly heady.

“I don’t deserve this,” Hank said simply. “I don’t deserve a lot of things. But you give them to me anyway.”

Connor couldn’t wait any longer. He got to his knees and made his way across the blanket, climbing into Hank’s lap. Hank grunted with surprise, but his hands settled around Connor’s slender waist. When they kissed, analysis details for the crumbs caught in Hank’s beard popped up, like anything mattered but the specific composition of Hank’s saliva. The heat of his mouth. The feel of his lips.

“I think you do deserve them,” Connor said, touching the tip of his nose to Hank’s. “That’s why we make a good team.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They kissed again, and again, until Connor started to lose himself in the way Hank’s hands roamed up and down his back, palming at his shoulder and gently squeezing the top of his ass. He pressed himself harder against Hank’s groin, desperate to feel his thick cock slowly stirring to life, and swallowed Hank’s moan so the wind wouldn’t carry it over the grass. This wasn’t specifically part of Connor’s plan, or at least, he’d accidentally sped up the timeline. It didn’t matter, though. He wouldn’t complain.

“Con,” Hank said, voice so low that it rumbled through his chest and right into Connor’s. “We’re kind of losing the thread of the whole picnic thing.”

Connor hummed, reaching behind him blindly for the picnic basket.

“You’re right,” he said. “There’s still dessert.”

Refusing to move from Hank’s lap, Connor dug for the tupperware container at the bottom of the basket, ignoring the shrill anticipatory whine from his CPU. Hank gave him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“You seem real excited about watching me eat a piece of leftover cake.”

Wordlessly, Connor handed Hank the tupperware and watched his face as he pulled off the lid, waiting for the dawn of realization. It didn’t take long. Hank was an intelligent man.

“Are you…?” Hank asked, setting aside the container. He held the remote in his hands like it was breakable, like he was afraid to push any buttons.

Connor had no such reservations. He plucked it from Hank’s hands, turned on the power, increased the vibrations to 35% strength, and angled himself so that Hank could  _ surely _ feel it. Judging by the way he jerked, rocking uncontrollably up into the cleft of Connor’s ass, he did.

“Holy shit,” he said, his hands flying right back to grip at Connor’s hips. He held so tightly that it would leave bruises on someone else — someone human. Connor ignored the pang of loss at his inability to be marked up and pulled back his skin at each individual point where Hank was touching him. That was just as good.

Leaning in close, so close that their lips brushed without quite meeting, Connor pried open one of Hank’s hands and put the remote inside. “Happy birthday.”


End file.
